


Requiem

by FettsJetts



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Grant Ward doesn't run Hydra, Heavy dependence on Agents of SHIELD plot, Hydra (Marvel), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-HYDRA Reveal, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FettsJetts/pseuds/FettsJetts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When The Winter Soldier was created, Hydra needed a permanent person to keep watch. Someone reliable and ever-lasting to watch over every thawing. A mutant was brought in, a woman who hadn't aged a day over 30 since 1907, Vera Hawthorne. She was watch over the Winter Soldier, be a familiar face after each waking, and eventually, she would command Hydra, ruling higher than Alexander Pierce and Daniel Whitehall. </p><p>She became Madame Hydra.</p><p> </p><p>[ Previously titled "Hail Hydra" ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awake

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me and I had to many plot ideas that I had to write the first chapter immediately.
> 
> ENJOY. 
> 
> (Also, this is heavily canon but with several big alterations, like Madame Hydra. Madame Hydra is commonly portrayed as the mutant, Viper, however, I hate her and in this idea, Viper isn't Madame Hydra, so yeah. There will also be several comic plot points integrated into this because they haven't been covered by the movies in enough detail. Its not too bad, but if it bothers you, a quick look at the Marvel Comics Wiki should clear any confusion.)

_**Soviet Russia** _

_**December 1945** _

Vera straightened her back, hearing the satisfying pop. She squared her shoulders and pressed her palm against the pad beside the door. It scanned for a moment, a mechanical voice stating "Hawthorne, Vera J." before the door slid open. The window before her was an outlook, lab equipment in the room below her. She stood on a balcony, an observation room. Speakers were mounted around the room, and three people sat at control boards with bulky headsets covering their ears. The room was darkened, as if to keep identities hidden from the people below, a contrast to the stark white room it overlooked. Vera stepped forward, close enough to see armored men bring in an unconscious soldier missing an arm and an alarming amount of blood. They lay him on the operating table, a doctor standing by with a bone saw. The door slid open behind her, scaring her out of concentration. "Lukin, Aleksander H." The voice stated. The dark haired Russian took a place beside her, a smile on his lips.

"привет, Miss Vera. You have seen the new soldier, yes? He will be a very nice addition." His thick Russian accent makes it difficult for her to understand his words, however she manages the same way she had when she met him.

"The arm is problematic, sir. We cannot have a super soldier with one arm." She looks at him displeased. He gives her a light chuckle, holding his chest. "I hardly find this funny. Its disappointing. I was under the impression I was to watch over a powerful assassin."

"The arm is no problem, I give you my word. If you'd find it entertaining, you can watch first hand the replacement of his missing arm, or you may stay up here." He gives her a polite smile and waits for her decision. Her shoulders move with her heavy and suspicious sigh.

"You should hope for your sake this is successful, General. It would be a shame." She follows him out as he guides her towards the stairs that lead to the lab. "I may have ageless and endless time, but I would rather not waste it." The lab's door has a retinal scan, along with hand print scanner. Vera grumbles about security before placing her hand on the pad and eye before the scanner. The door clicks with another identity verification announcement, and opens to the two. The woman's eyes take several moments to adjust to the bright light of the room, blinking multiple times to be able to see. "I've read this mans files, but fill me in. Who is he?"

"Sergeant James Barnes. He fought aside Captain America in an attempt to take down Johann Schmidt and Hydra." Vera gives a light laugh at the the thought of bringing down Hydra. "He fell off Arnim Zola's train. We found him in the snow, bleeding but alive. We aim to fix him and restore him for Hydra. His memory will be wiped, save for few memories to keep his loyalty to Hydra and you, of course." General Lukin guides to her a set of chairs, set for them to sit and observe the operation. 

"Perhaps this will work out, however I have my doubts. Show me this miracle procedure and maybe I'll give a high recommendation for you to The Director of Hydra. But don't count on it." Lukin's smile disappears and he nods for the doctors to proceed. Vera sits back in her chair, crossing her legs. Her eyes follow the doctor as he puts the bone saw against skin and begins to saw away the remaining, gnarled stump of arm left. The soldier, James, begins to scream, bringing a light smile to Vera's lips. The saw makes a awful grinding noise when it reaches bone, its teeth catching on every grain. The nurses there to aid jump and cringe at every move of the saw, the sound setting their teeth on edge. It takes two doctors half an hour to push on the saw hard enough to cut through the bone, the bloody hunk of flesh and bone falling into the metal bucket held by the nurse. No more blood spouts from the wound and Vera sighs heavily. "Perhaps it is wise to give blood to the soldier so he doesn't bleed out and ruin this procedure." It was common sense, yet no one had thought of it. The doctors look from her to Lukin, the latter giving a sigh and hand wave.

"You heard the lovely woman." A nurse sets up an IV while the doctors continue their work. A metal table in rolled in, a sheet covering what lays on it. A doctor removes the sheet, revealing a shiny titanium-alloy arm, a red communist star painted on the upper bicep. Vera sits forward in her seat, amazed at the sight of the arm. "Glorious, isn't it?" She ignores Lukin, marveling at the doctors as they lift the appendage and begin their work at connecting nerve endings. Vera watches them intently for what seems to be hours, before they weld the arm into a plate that had been placed on the chest while the nerves were connected. The sergeant laying on the table had not made a sound in the entire expanse of time, leading Vera to believe they had put him on some form on anesthesia. The arm had been welded in place, nerves and reflexes checked, and IV removed to wake the patient. A doctor brings a syringe to the flesh arm of the soldier, sliding it into the skin. He presses the plunger down about an inch, the clear liquid entering the soldier's bloodstream. Adrenaline. "And now your time has come, Miss Hawthorne." Vera nods to Lukin and takes a seat beside the man whose eyes begin to flutter. She puts on a smile as his eyes fully open, dread and fear crossing his features. 

"Easy, easy, my friend. Relax. My name is Vera Hawthorne, and I'm here to help."

-

The soldier had been given a bed and had been resting for almost 9 hours. Vera looked away from the surveillance in his room and looked to Lukin. "What are we to call him? Certainly not James. He cannot know who he once was." Her hands went to rest on her hips, awaiting an answer.

"I was hoping you would have an input on that, Miss. Our naming department is short staffed." Lukin meant to joke but the look across Vera's face was no-nonsense and stern. "What would be fitting?" She thinks for a moment, her blank expression betraying her. Her lips contort into a grin, the words on her tongue.

"The Winter Soldier."

* * *

 

**_Washington D.C._ **

**_Mid-March 2015_ **

Heels hit the ground with deadly impact, anger so hot the temperature rose. She was out for blood, and knew where to get it. The door she met slid open at her fingerprint recognition, stating "Hawthorne, Vera J." and closing behind her. She met the older face of Alexander Pierce and he saw her displeasure.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" Vera Hawthorne's words cut like a blade pressing against his throat. "Do you have any idea what you have done? The shit you have destroyed with you ridiculous little plan?" Her fury entangles with every word, her unchanged features cutting and intimidating. Her face is inches from his as she hovers above him, pressing his spine into the table. "We have hidden behind SHIELD for a reason, Alexander! Just as Johann Schmidt hid behind Hitler. We are meant to be a secret! We strike in another's name to bring the blame down upon them so we may rise from the ashes as hope to the people. You have exposed us to America's hero, Captain America! I..." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I can't even look at you." Pierce stutters when he speaks.

"What would you have me do, Madame?"

"Wake the Asset. We need him. I'll be waiting in room 7. Bring him to me along with the files of Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers and Nick Fury. Be hasty. We cannot waste anymore time after your mistake. Prepare for an attack on the Triskelion."

-

Vera sat, legs crossed, awaiting The Soldier's arrival. She was up, standing by the door as soon as it opened. He was disheveled and irritable, his usual mood once woken up. She can see in his eyes a plan to lash out, his eyes darting around the room. She in front of him quick as lightning, her hands cupping his face. "Darling, relax, its Vera. Easy, easy. I'll only ever help you, remember?" She looks to the guards, a pleasant smile on her face. "You may leave now. I can handle him."

"Madame, Pierce gave us strict order to stay here." The oldest of the guards states, his posture still respectful, but casual.

"Alexander is in charge, now is he? I said you are dismissed." With the final word, they leave in a hurry, not staying to find out what would happen if they stayed. Vera turns back to the Asset with a kind smile, gesturing for him to sit in the seat beside hers. "Please, sit, my dear. I've taken the liberty of ordering you food. It's been quite sometime since you've been awake, you're probably starving." He says nothing, simply staring into her smiling gaze. She holds up the files. "I have an assignment for you. I need these people dead, in order for me to continue what I do here. I help you and anyone who requires assistance." The Winter Soldier looks to the files and picks one up.  _Steve Rogers._ She holds her breath, but the pictures brings nothing, and she exhales. "Though, perhaps now is not the best time for business, hm?" She runs her fingers through his hair. "Perhaps a little  _us_ time, like last time you woke up?"He looks away from the file and a smirk crosses his face, a final break from his usual stoic gaze.

"Us time." His smirk breaks into a grin, turning to face her directly. He grabs her harshly, though his kiss when their lips meet is far from harsh. They stand, their bodies pressing against each other, his hands roughly around her waist. In an instant, she jumps to wrap her legs around his waist, and her slams her against the hard wall. Vera lets out a noise, whether its pain or not is a mystery. His kiss travels down to ravish her neck, and she laughs. She laughs, because her job has been done well. Vera laughs because she exceeded her expectations.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a lil steamy there. This was fairly short, however th following chapters wil' be much longer, I pinky promise!
> 
> Your kudos/bookmarks/subscribes and comments really boost my self confidence so... yeah. :D


	2. Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was very vague on Vera's origin in the last chapter.
> 
> Vera was born in England in 1877 and moved to Germany in 1880. (I figured this necessary for accents, if anyone reads with accents. )

_**Russia** _

_**1946** _

 "Good. Again."

Vera held a long black baton in her hands, watching The Winter Soldier follow through his training motions. His foot slipped against the mat, causing him to to miss a punch to the bag. She brought the baton down hard across his back, his body dropping to the ground. She gives him a stern look and shakes her head. "Get up. Do it again." There's a harsh venom in her voice that forces him to comply. He stands up straight, watching her as she lights a cigarette between her lips. She nods to him as she blows smoke, urging him to continue. He attacks the dummy again, his movements quick and violent, but not enough. She shakes her head, striking him again with the dense stick, leaving an angry red mark across his legs. "I traveled from Germany for this?!" Shes angry with him, and he stays on his knees. 

"I am sorry, Mistress." His Russian is choppy, and formal, his lessons still on going. She takes his chin in her hand gingerly, discarding her cigarette beside her. She'd never been particularly hard on him. When someone else were to fill in for her, they were twice as brutal when he made a mistake, so he had come to hope that it was Vera who oversaw his daily training.

"My soldier..." Her Russian is fluent and smooth. "Perhaps a break? You've worked so hard." The soldier shakes his head, sweat dripping from his forehead. Vera knew he'd never take a break. It'd been drilled into him that breaks are for the weak, and he was not weak. 

"No, mistress. I must be perfect. No room for mistakes." His eyes stayed focused on her feet. Her hand gripped his jaw, forcing him to look up at her. 

"Such a good little soldier." She pulls her hand back. "Again." Her voice loses all kindness that had been there before, being replaced by hardness and strength. He stands at her words, body tall. His metal arm hits the punching bag hard, breaking the chain it hung from. Vera raises her chin with an aura of approval. "Good, good. More." She rests the end of her baton across her shoulder, pointing to the other dummies.

"Yes, Miss Vera."

-

They moved to real people not soon after. Bones broke with ease and the long black weapons Vera kept was hardly used. General Lutin stood beside Vera, arms crossed, eyes filled with approval. They had set the Soldier on a large group of Red Room rejects, 9 taken down within the last minute. 

"He's doing very well." The General voices an approving opinion. "However, I would like to see the Soldier against you, Miss Hawthorne." Her head snaps to look at him, malice sharp in her eyes. He meets her gaze and his eyes are filled with amusement, like the woman before him was a joke, an entertainment. "It would prove his skills, to go against his maker." His arms move to fold across his chest, and she distracts herself from anger by observing the wrinkles in his uniform with far too much detail. She would not be lying if she had said she hated this man to her very core and would take great pleasure in slicing his throat, watching the blood drain from his body. She was old fashioned like that.

"Very well." She pulls the thick black baton close to her chest, pulling on the handle. It slides open at an almost invisible line, revealing a small few inches of the blade housed inside. It shines, glinting in the dim light surrounding them. "I will not hold back on him." She turn away from him with a clench of her jaw, not waiting for a response, sliding the blade back into the baton. The Soldier met her eyes when she approaches him, confusion clouding his eyes. She stands at the ready, a wicked grin across her face. "My turn."

 

**Germany**

**1921**

Vera let out a noise, an exhale of breath from her nose as the needle punctured her finger tip. "Mother?" Apparently Johann had heard the disgruntled noise, and he poked his head out around the door frame, concern etched on his young face. "What happened?" He crosses his arms when he entered the room, resting his back against the wall beside the door. 

"Nothing, liebe. Just a bit of a poke with the sewing needle. Not to worry." She turned back to her quilt, sighing. She'd be distracted, her mind wandering to her once friend she would speak to when sewing. 

"Need I remind you of Little Briar Rose, mother?" He laughs at her expense, crossing the room and seating himself in the chair beside her. "You seem distracted mother... Is it Stephanie?" She grows silent at his words, putting down her sewing with a sigh. "Mother, I... I can't help but think she still lives. She is strong and... Perhaps she was unable to return home. We may never know. But she loved us, you must know that." His face was so innocent when she looks at him. She gives a sad smile, cupping his chin lightly. "I miss her too, but perhaps she is like you. You never age, and neither did she. Perhaps she takes her immortality further." Johann, only 20, tried his hardest to keep his beloved mother happy. Oh, how he tried.

"I know, darling, I do." Vera looks at her lap, sighing quietly, thinking. "You are so young and hopeful... My son, my beautiful child." Her face turns sad rather quickly. She stands, back to him. "Its not Stephanie, Johann. I have long given up hope on my dear friend." She used friend loosely. "There's so much hate-" she spits her words. "Everything is bad and there's no happiness to be seen anywhere! Germany is a disaster! I can't... Johann, I grow so tired, watching you grow in this. You are so smart, so caring...." 

"Perhaps a rest, then?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was rather swamped with this, I apologize. I want this is pick up, I really do, however I am always so busy.


End file.
